Second and Captive
by akuoni
Summary: He woke to darkness and nothingness. His world is the voice of the ones who speak to him. He is Only a captive. And The one he fears is known only to him as Second.


He screamed loudly through the knotted fabric in his mouth, white shocks of agony shooting through his body from where he was penetrated so violently. He writhed and thrashed, but his arms were held fast by the jacket –the only stitch of clothing on his body- he had awoken in so abruptly. Not only was he bound by a straightjacket, but he could also feel massive leather straps -a la Frankenstein movies- holding him down. He screamed again as it was moved around within himself, attempting to kick out despite the fact his legs were fastened to the ends of a bar that was uncomfortably wide and sat too close for his legs to remain straight. Instead they were bent halfway and hung in the air, but unmoving as the bar and the restraints refused to yield. Hooks pulled his knees apart painfully and he was left open to his assaulter. But the fabric covering his eyes and muffling his ears kept him from discovering the culprit.

* * *

"Yer so beau'iful," purred the first voice he heard, waking up in the position so described… though without the crippling pain of being violated by a nameless faceless stranger. A shiver ran through him, the slow drawl more frightening than anything he had ever heard. It reminded him of a time when he wasn't always himself. A time when he was almost killed and split into two separate selves… But that first voice only kept him in a fuzzy haze of drugged semi-consciousness.

* * *

It was the second voice he feared. The Second had a soft soothing voice and only spoke short, disjointed sentences. The first voice had never come back once the second arrived. And the Second only seemed to want to break him. It had started out small. Touches and caresses that were a little too uncomfortable… Leaning in close enough that that warm breath fanned over his skin… And there were more little quirks.

Always touching him and exploring his musculature. Testing his reflexes and performing basic medical evaluations. A desire to pump him full of strange liquids that made him giggle uncontrollably… or made him drowsy and lethargic… or high as a kite… or left him burning with desperate need…And that final one was what led to the first scene.

* * *

The Second came in that day the same as always. He smelt like pure alcohol and frost and decayed copper… if that made any sense… and he was giggling in that soft voice of his. It made the American think of that TV show Dexter. But that wasn't important. What was important was what he said…

"Greetinks leetel Pay-shent," came the eerily soft voice. Second had to be foreign, maybe from like the Eastern European countries like Romania or somewhere. He drew close as he continued speaking, "I haff found a new dink for you to be tryink~ Ve shahll begin now~"

His head had been held at an awkward and extremely painful angle as the man jabbed a needle into his neck, aiming for the main artery in the most painful spot of course, and injected the ice-cold liquid. Then the man had sat back -or did whatever he did while he waited- until his captive 'patient' began showing signs of it affecting him.

* * *

It started as general discomfort; he writhed and squirmed in an attempt to free himself. Or get away from whatever was bothering him. It was followed by shortness of breath and increasing body temperature, evinced by the shallow panting and flushed countenance. Then came the gradual wakening of his arousal at the same time that he realized what that drug was… A powerful aphrodisiac that he had been forced to test the potency of…

HE had whimpered and moaned, twisting and jerking at his bonds in desperation. Friction. He needed blissful friction. Something to rub against him. But he was on his back. And Second was writing something down with faint skrit-skrit-skritting. Always the Fucking scientist.

He had keened, gritting his teeth in shame around the obstruction, begging for release from the burning that coiled in his gut. And Second had paused, clothes rustling and heels clumping –not clacking, clumping like he was a freaking juggernaut- as he approached. And he keened again, arching his back as much as he could, begging for it without the benefit of words.

A slick digit had inserted itself into his body without preamble or warning, and he yelped in surprise and slight pain. Second didn't seem to care though, as he continued to pump into and out of the tight entrance. A second digit entered and then a third. And it began to really hurt as the three spread him open. But the pain was only fuel to the fires that had been forced upon him.

They had pulled away. He had cried out, trying to keep them in, but to no avail. And something cold had pressed against him, which he accepted eagerly. Anything would do. He needed that feeling of completion. And He sobbed as the cold thing inside him moved, hating himself for falling to desire so easily. Hating himself for being so affected by a fucking _drug_.

It pulled out before he could reach his desired completion, making him cry and whine in desperation. Something larger than the pipe, but not flesh pressed against him. It hurt and he cried out in distress, the sound sharp around the fabric in his mouth. Second paused… And he waited for Second to take it out. But he didn't. Instead he continued, pushing harder and harder. And that's when you came in, dear reader.

He made harsh choking sounds as he sobbed in agony, the item finally drawn from the hurting passage. He felt a hand caress his cheek and turned away. It followed him and tugged on the fabric around his mouth, pulling the gag from his mouth and allowing him to breathe as he cried and hiccupped with distress and pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but something was shoved into it, forcing his jaw to remain ajar and pinning his tongue to the bottom of his jaw.

He gurgled, recognizing the shape as a sphere. He tried to move to spit it out, but it was just the right size to stay stuck behind his teeth. He could feel the pits in the orb, allowing him to breathe, but still unable to speak. He made alien sounds as he squirmed anxiously. Something bad was going to happen.

To his immense shame, he was still aroused. And Second knew that. Second chuckled darkly and ran a gloved hand over his naked skin, goose bumps trailing in its wake. He felt a source of warmth move to sit between his legs and he screamed as something even bigger ripped through his tensed body, throwing his head back as he arched with enough strength to make one of the bands holding him down break apart.

But the rest held firm. He screamed and screamed and screamed as The pain overwhelmed him, that fleshy invader moving at such a fast rhythm. In-out-in-out-in-out. But that _GOD-DAMNED **DRUG**_! It made him find pleasure in the pain. And he spasmed as the pain and pleasure mixed inside of him, making him writhe in desperate agony and pleasure.

Second came first, the roiling heat burning through his overfull and extremely abused hole. It sent him over the edge and he felt it splatter his body and sink into the fabric holding him down. He moaned as he went boneless with despair. He didn't know how long he had been blind or mute. But for the first time he was thankful for it…


End file.
